


draw me like one of you french girls

by NianaiBell



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: AU, Cussing, Domestic, Fluff, Getting Together, Housekeeper!Yamamoto, M/M, Smoking, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, mangaka!Gokudera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NianaiBell/pseuds/NianaiBell
Summary: AU. While Gokudera may not be in the profession he always imagined, living in the place he always imagined or even if his housekeeper isn't what he imagined; things generally work out for the best. "I guess you could call me an illustrator. Kind of." "Well, have I ever read any of your works?" "Probably not."





	1. Chapter 1

For the sixth day in a row, Gokudera was awoken not by his alarm.

No, this Saturday morning, at 7:55 am, he was awoken by three prompt knocks on his door.

Sighing agitatedly he refused to open his eyes. Instead of moving towards his door, the smoker chose to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. Anything was better than what awaited him behind his front door.

But just as it had been the last five days an annoyingly happy whistle accompanied the knocking. The whistling was almost worse because that meant the idiot was in a good mood despite the fact it wasn't even 8 am on a Saturday. Flipping over onto his back Gokudera cursed loudly at his luck. He had stayed up half the night trying to finish one scene in his book and still wasn't satisfied with the end results when he had laid down his pen. Neither was his editor.

With great effort Gokudera pushed himself off his bed, pulled on his drawstring pajama pants and padded toward the foyer, where that ridiculous whistling still continued.

Putting on his most menacing morning face, Gokudera flung open the door and growled. "Why the fuck can't you be quieter at 8 in the morning moron?"

The face that greeted him wasn't terrified by the words or expression of the silverette. Instead the other man cocked his head sideways and good naturedly apologized.

"Sorry, Gokudera-san. I'm just a morning person I guess."

Unsatisfied with the answer Gokudera clicked his teeth at the man and reached for his pack of cigarettes on the side table, walking away before any conversations could be started. "Whatever. I'm gonna smoke." And with that Gokudera stalked over to his small balcony and ignored the idiot in his house.

Yamamoto closed the door softly behind him, smiling at the bristly man. No one had told him how interesting his employer was.

Three months ago, Yamamoto's father had stepped aside in running the family business; a little housekeeping thing. And being the only son, Yamamoto had no problem taking the reins of the job. The night of his retirement party Yamamoto's father had pulled his son aside and informed him of a recent addition to their client list; a Gokudera Hayato had signed up for a cleaner every day. With an odd look in his eye that Yamamoto still hadn't quite figured out he had whispered to his son, "Be careful with that one Takeshi. He's a real firecracker." Yamamoto had laughed at the comment, quickly writing it off as an old man's caution.

Until a week ago their only other employee, one Sawada Tsunayoshi, had been taking care of the place. That was until his wife went into labor and Tsuna asked for time off to be with his family. Again Tsuna warned his boss about the firecracker that was Gokudera. And again Yamamoto had brushed off the heed.

"Hey baka, get your shit together and get to work. I ain't paying you to stare into space."

Picking up the tune he had been whistling earlier, Yamamoto smiled at the deep frown on his employer's face which earned him a roll of tourmaline eyes.

Three hours later the last load of laundry had been put into the dryer, the house had been swept and lunch was on the stove. Looking around at the house Yamamoto thought his father would appreciate the job obviously well done here. Everything looked in place and clean, just the way Gokudera had off-handedly mentioned he liked it on the first day. Speaking of Gokudera…

Yamamoto glanced to his left and saw that the smoker hadn't moved from his place at the table. Actually nothing had really moved since he had sat down with his laptop almost two hours ago. His cup of coffee (black with no milk or sugar, Yamamoto had learned) sat atop a stack of folders, stuffed thickly with papers. His little laptop was pushed far enough on the table that Gokudera could lean his upper body onto the table and still have room to look at the screen over thick black frames.

He hadn't realized he was staring until hard green eyes caught his gaze and a harsh, "What are you staring at?" held his attention.

"I was just thinking, sorry Gokudera-san."

Another frown, but this time the smaller male remained silent and his eyes flickered uninterestedly back to his laptop screen.

Curious about what he could be so intense on, Yamamoto walked over to the small table, a soft scraping sound as he pulled a chair over the recently swept floor.

A surprised exclamation of "The hell do you think you're doing?" went unnoticed as Yamamoto gave his employer an once-over. His pajama pants were threadbare and had a hole on the left leg, no socks, and his silver hair was pulled into a ponytail. With a soft chuckle Yamamoto thought, well at least he put on a shirt.

"Seriously, what do you think you're doing? Don't you have laundry to fold or something?"

"Food's on the stove and laundry's in the dryer for a while Gokudera-san." He moved so he sat a little more comfortably. "And besides I thought it would be nice if we could talk. We've been together for almost a week and I don't know anything about you. I don't even know what you do for a living."

Gokudera stared at him like he had spoken in French, before he shook his head, mumbled something about how he wouldn't want to know, and picked up his coffee mug.

As the male sipped, Yamamoto noticed the sketchbook in his lap for the first time and intrigued he asked, "Are you an artist Gokudera-san?"

"Why would you ask that?" he scowled unhappily before looking disappointingly at the empty mug.

"Well," Yamamoto leaned so his hand held up his chin and a bright smile covered his face. "Your sketchbook is a good hint. Also I keep finding folded up scraps of doodles in your pant pockets when I wash them. But they're usually scribbled out so I can't tell what you drew." Yamamoto finished with smirk.

Gokudera's face went beet red but he held his poker face stubbornly. "That's some pretty good observations coming from the moron who almost set my kitchen on fire yesterday."

Yamamoto recognized the jab as an attempt to turn the conversation so he shrugged his shoulders, brushing off the comment before haughtily pinning Gokudera with his eyes.

"So, Gokudera-san. May I see some of your work? I promise to not say anything if you're shy."

"Tough luck kid. Not going to happen." Gokudera quickly jerked his eyes closed, turning his face away from the happy idiot across from him. Yamamoto sat up slight, a teasing tilt on his mouth. "Oh c'mon Gokudera-san. I'm just curious about my employer."

Sweeping his laptop into his arms, the lean male walked away from the table.

"I'll be working in my study for the rest of the day. If you need anything; don't ask."

Yamamoto laughed heartily as he heard the office door shut loudly and wondered why he thought he wanted to see a red faced Gokudera again.

"If you're not an artist, then you're an illustrator." Yamamoto declared three days later. "Like for a children's book or something."

Dropping his pencil, Gokudera turned towards the curious stare behind him. "I thought we were done with this conversation Yamamoto!"

The housekeeper removed the bandana covering his mass of black hair and tossed it like a baseball onto the table by Gokudera's feet. He stepped over to the plush couch where the other already sat, sketch book in hand. He made no attempt to look at Gokudera's drawings, especially since the other seemed so fidgety already. Yamamoto tried his best not to smile, really he did, but when he fell beside Gokudera there was definitely a toothy smile in place.

"You called me Yamamoto." He said innocently.

Gokudera paused before gruffly shifting down into the seat. "Yeah, so what of it?"

"In the nine days I've been working here, you've only called me 'moron', 'idiot', 'kid' or something involving a cuss word. It's just nice to hear it, that's all." Shrugging Yamamoto tossed his hands behind his head. "You never did answer my question."

"My answer is that it's none of your damn business what I do."

"Alright, I just thought I'd ask."

They fell into a brief silence, where Yamamoto simply listened to the ticking of the clock and Gokudera shifted in his seat. Gokudera listened to the breathing of his companion, the loud yap of Mukuro's Chihuahua next door, and an increasingly bothersome tick-tick-toc of the clock. Yamamoto seemed unaffected by the quiet which pissed Gokudera off even more.

When the ticking on the clock became too much for Gokudera, he irritably gripped his hair in his fist and looked out the giant window to his right.

"I guess you could call me an illustrator. Kinda."

A kind lift of his lips remained hidden from Gokudera as Yamamoto stretched out to lounge on the couch beside his boss. "Oh, is that so?"

Yamamoto heard a deep exhale come from the silver haired male as the male's shoulders dropped. His eyes quickly found a spot on the ceiling to look at when Gokudera began to turn around.

"That's all you've got to say moron?"

A head tilt and a raised brow. "What else would you like me to say Gokudera-san?"

"You've been pestering me about this for almost a week and all you can say is 'oh'. You really are simple minded."

Even with the harsh words from Gokudera, Yamamoto noticed the blush coating his ears and how he began to fiddle with his pencil. His boss was so cute.

"Okay, then have I ever read anything you've done?" He asked warmly. His reply was an unmanly snort.

"Probably not." Gokudera leaned forward, his hair falling prettily across his cheek bones.

Unperturbed, Yamamoto glanced back up to the ceiling. "I don't see you doing children's books. Too foul a mouth for that." He tapped a tan finger to his lips. "Manga then. Like those super popular action ones?"

Yamamoto could totally see it; a Gokudera roused from sleep because he had dreamt up the big climatic fight sequence for some macho action manga. He'd excitedly sketch out muscular men throwing punches at one another with bombs exploding in the background. Yamamoto would bet good money that Gokudera's drawings were awesome. With a bit of amazement, the housekeeper let out a soft 'wow' at the thought.

Gokudera looked back at the daydreaming man, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "I don't even want to know what you're imaging."

A hopeful look from the Japanese male.

"So, am I right Gokudera-san?"

The green eyes caught amber ones, a cocky look in them. "Not quite."

"Hah? Wait, if you don't do action that leaves chick stuff."

Gokudera rolled his eyes as he gathered up his sketchbook.

"You're an idiot." Was all he said as he tossed the bandana back into the stunned face of Yamamoto. The same Yamamoto who was currently trying to blend the image of his macho-man drawing Gokudera with the flowery girl romance drawing Gokudera. It wasn't exactly pleasant or really even that feasible.

He turned awkwardly on the couch to watch the slim male walk towards the kitchen. "Hey, Gokudera-san-" but he was quickly cut off by a frown on the pale face.

"Enough with the questions. I'm done with this game, if you can figure it out good for you. But if not, leave all your damn questions at the door from now on."

Yamamoto sat there in silence, now even more curious as what his employer was hiding.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Yamamoto and Gokudera developed an odd semi-functional relationship. Yamamoto was a constant presence that Gokudera was learning tolerate being around him all the time. Even if he was an idiot. He at least seemed to be an idiot who took the hint he wasn't going to find out about his boss's job.

Once that fact had been establish, Yamamoto had just been a goofy counterpoint of his day and soon enough Gokudera found that he didn't mind sketching outside of his office. As long as Yamamoto seemed mostly preoccupied.

Although the two males seemed to be getting along well enough, Gokudera was getting increasingly more and more irritable. Already infamous for his terrible people skills, vulgar mouth and smoking habits, he at least had moments of being a normal guy. But now the silverette seemed to snap at the smallest matters. A bird chripping by his window, the house smelling of lavender, the lights being too bright. A slender hand was always raking through his locks and the once occasional scowl was now regularly etched onto his lips.

And what caused this mood change in Gokudera?

Well, after a successful launch of his newest manga project, his editors wanted more. More illustrations, more designs, more characters and more partners. Even as creative as Gokudera was he still preferred to be the artist rather than the writer. As such his partner would write the plot, dialogue and characters and Gokudera would draw everything out.

The next logical question was of course, just what kind of manga did Gokudera Hayato do? Was Yamamoto right in his assumption of the smoker being a girly shoujo illustrator right? Sorta.

Gokudera Hayato drew men. Men that thoroughly enjoyed having sex. With other men. Yep, he was a yaoi mangaka. And he was a damn good one too! He was also currently out of ideas. At least he was until after the latest release. Now everything he drew lacked imagination and the feeling that his characters were relatable. His editors weren't helping either with their constant nagging about how they knew he could do better; if he only tried a little harder. Bullshit. Gokudera had been working his ass off for the past two weeks and it had gotten him nowhere.

And then Yamamoto had come along and been a distraction (a surprisingly pleasant one) and Gokudera found most of his sketches involved slightly altered versions of the housekeeper. Some drawings had the same black spiky hair, some took a good guess at his body type (Yamamoto had only removed his shirt twice when he'd spilled sauce on it), but most featured his ridiculous smile and eyes.

Gokudera sat on his couch, absently flipping through his most recent sketchpad, each page filled with little Yamamotos. One hand supported his cheek, pushing his glasses slightly up his nose while his socked feet fiddled with the edge of a deep blue blanket. The blanket had been a gift from the idiot himself. He had simply paused by the door one day and tossed the thing easily into Gokudera's hands. When Gokudera tried to retort something back Yamamoto simply laughed, ruffled the silver strands of hair and said, "I just noticed you always walk around in a ridiculous lack of clothes. Keep warm, won't you Gokudera-san?"

With absolutely no reason that he could see Gokudera's face had erupted in heat after that. Yamamoto didn't seem to notice and left. Even as he sat on his couch days later, Gokudera still flushed at the memory.

Luckily Yamamoto's shift had ended fifteen minutes ago which left Gokudera to puzzle over his odd behavior. As he flipped through more pages he realized he had drawn far too many sketches of the housekeeper, and most of them would make him blush if he ever saw them. One page in particular made Gokudera's fingers pause.

Thumbing the page back so he could see it more clearly, green eyes traced the outline of the main character of his most recent publication as he was topped by a familiar male. He remembered sketching this one out a few days ago while Yamamoto had been doing laundry by him. The taller male had spent most of the time making lame jokes which had Gokudera rolling his eyes at. The rest of the time Gokudera had flipped through the channels until Yamamoto had spoken up, "Oh man, I forgot the game was on today." He had pleading eyes when he had turned to Gokudera. "Can we watch it Gokudera-san?" With a grumble of complaint Gokudera had left the station on and listened to the commentary of a baseball game from Yamamoto as he folded laundry.

"What is going on with me?" Gokudera asked himself, confused by the entire situation. He really should be trying to figure out how to get his muse back instead of thinking about an employee.

Deciding to clear his mind, Gokudera pushed himself off the couch and he walked towards his balcony for a quick smoke. He dropped his sketchbook absently onto the table, failing to notice that the very drawing he'd been looking at had fallen out of the book and to the floor.

And as cruel fate would have it, the subject matter of said drawing had forgotten his house keys on the kitchen table in Gokudera's flat. Which is why as Gokudera stood outside smoking he couldn't hear the knocking on his front door.

His greetings going unanswered, Yamamoto figured Gokudera had fallen asleep on his couch again, and without much prompting he let himself in with his spare key.

Yamamoto tip-toed into the small home, careful to not disturb the owner. He was curious though if his assumption had been right. Wandering over to the couch, Yamamoto peeked over the top to find the seat empty. Which meant…

Turning to the balcony, Yamamoto confirmed his suspicion when he spotted a familiar back leaning on the outside railing. Unconsciously Yamamoto mimicked the other male's pose as he watched Gokudera flick his cigarette ash off absently. Gokudera stood there in the fresh air, completely at ease.

Knowing he really shouldn't be staring at his boss like this, Yamamoto guiltily laughed to himself. He had been watching the Italian like this since the second week he'd been here. Where was the harm in still looking? S look he did. It was a compliment to Gokudera. The Italian had left his hair down today, the breeze outside flicking the loose strands against a pale neck. Brown eyes traced over the contours of the lean back that trailed into slim hips and a firm butt, all covered by a thin black tee and cotton pajama pants. With a slight reddening of his cheeks he paused at Gokudera's backside for a moment too long. An image that he had looked at far too often.

He tried to think why he was so drawn to the male on the other side of the glass. As far as he knew, Yamamoto had never been attracted to men. Women were nice and soft. Women didn't have the sharp edges that defined Gokudera. Yamamoto had some experience in the whole love/sex department but that didn't explain why he enjoyed watching the hard lines and roughness that was Gokudera. But whenever he walked into the house every morning and a groggy Gokudera would greet him, he would feel a pleasant warmth blossom in the pit of his stomach. The good kind of heat, not the right before you get sick one. Either way, he knew he was attracted to the other male. And he was at a complete loss as what to do about it.

With one final look at his employer, Yamamoto decided it was time to leave. As he turned to leave he heard a crushing sound from underneath his shoe. Curiously he bent down to see what he had stepped on. Pulling the paper off the floor he realized he finally had one of Gokudera's drawings in his hands. What a lucky day for Yamamoto Takeshi.

On closer inspection though Yamamoto realized what exactly he was looking at. Was that-?

"What's that in your hand?"

Gokudera's rough voice, even more so from his recent cigarette, broke Yamamoto's concentration on the drawing, which fell to the floor. With a smile close to his usual brilliance he greeted the nervous look on Gokudera's face.

"Gokudera. Hey."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a PG-13 chapter

Gokudera ignored the greeting which, to be fair, Yamamoto had been expecting as much. He _had_ after all just been caught looking at some very personal drawings done by his employer. An awkward silence settled between them and Yamamoto noted unhappily how the other male's posture was ramrod straight, muscles tense and jaw tight, matching the steely glare in his eyes. He watched as pale shoulders tensed defensively, the smaller male teetering between looking ready to fight or flee. At that moment Gokudera was indeed like a lit firecracker his father had warned him about.

Racking his brain for anything that could possibly defuse the situation Yamamoto's tongue stumbled out through his honest thoughts.

"You're a really good artist Gokudera."

Gokudera, on the other hand, didn't seem to appreciate his art critique nearly as much.

The mortification of the event set off the last of Gokudera's restraints as anger and embarrassment gave heat to his voice; throwing his half empty pack of cigarettes to the floor, he advanced on Yamamoto. "The fuck are you even doing back here? Your shift was over almost 20 minutes ago. And really? All you can do after looking through someone's personal shit is to compliment the quality of _art_?" He stopped when they were toe to toe, angry fingers grasping roughly at the collar of his shirt. Yamamoto admitted in his own mind that he liked being in Gokudera's space like this; the faint smell of cigarettes radiating off him mixing with the same smell that permeated the entire flat set some fiery thrill off in his blood. From this close he could even see that there were flecks of blue in Gokudera's irises.

"Calm down Gokudera" he began playacting, "I left my house keys on the table," he jerked a finger over to the table with his keys resting there to prove his point, "and in regards to your art; it was just laying on the floor and I picked it up. Not a big deal." Gokudera's fingers clenched tensely at his chest before he shoved Yamamoto and backed away from him.

"Right. You should have at least said something so I knew you were back. Then you wouldn't have fucking seen..." He trailed off for a moment, red heating up his cheeks and ears before rounding back on the housekeeper. A wounded look flashed in Gokudera's eyes and Yamamoto ventured a guess that the male had been afraid of something like this happening all along. "You're pretty freaked out huh? Grossed out probably. Bet you're ready to get Tsuna back in here. You know, so I won't jump you or some shit like that." Gokudera accused reproachfully, eyes mocking his own statement and the distaste evident on his tongue.

"Wait Gokudera, it's not like-"

But Gokudera shook his head, leaning against the cluttered table.

"Save your breath dumbass. I don't want to hear it."

The two stood awkwardly in silence as Gokudera picked at his fingernails anxiously, waiting for Yamamoto to take the opening to escape. But Yamamoto didn't want to do that. He didn't want to leave and pretend nothing had happened here. He didn't want to walk out that door and pretend he didn't know what Gokudera drew and that apparently he thought of Yamamoto in a less than innocent manner. Doing that would break Gokudera, even further than he was already beginning to crack, Yamamoto guessed. Besides he knew he rather be here in this mess with him than anywhere else. Ready to do the unexpected, he steeled himself for whatever storm he was about to bring.

He took one careful step forward, eyeing the silverette for any reactions. Gokudera purposely glared at the floor, refusing to look up although his fingers twitched in reflex. Yamamoto took it as a good sign he hadn't fled quite yet. Not really knowing what to do next he followed his gut. This was do or die time and he already eliminated leaving. So what now? In the pit of his stomach he knew that Gokudera had a hold on him. His fiery temper and quick wit were inexplicably appealing and Yamamoto couldn't deny how much time he'd spent just watching and tracing out the angular lines of his face. And as he watched the cautious male across from him, he felt the strongest urge to be the one to kiss the frown lines at his lips and rub his hands into the tension so clearly holding tight to Gokudera's shoulders and neck. Which meant he had to convey all this to said male somehow and go from there. Hopefully he wouldn't get a fist to the face for his attempt.

"So." He said simply as he bent over to pick up the incriminating drawing that had fluttered to the floor at some point. "This is what you draw Gokudera?"

Gokudera's frown eased up minutely, seemingly surprised that he hadn't bolted immediately. His head jerked towards the door nervously. Catching himself, he tried to cover it up with callous words again. "Yeah, obviously."

Carefully choosing to keep his eyes on the paper and not on his target, Yamamoto took another tentative step forward.

"You're wrong, you know?" he said in a soft voice.

An indignant look flashed across Gokudera's face and Yamamoto continued another step forward.

A quirked eyebrow and curled lips challenged him, "Oh really? Please inform me what I'm wrong about."

"I _am_ pretty surprised. But I don't want Tsuna to be here instead. I like it here." An inhale of air before he locked eyes with Gokudera's green ones. He was going to make sure he clearly stated his intentions. There would be no misunderstandings from his side.

"I want to be here because of _you_. This picture doesn't change that."

They both stood before one another, Yamamoto following the look of confusion washing over Gokudera's face. Knowing Gokudera, he was probably thinking a thousand different things all at once right now but he gave away little and none of it made it pass his open lips.

Heartbeats passed before Gokudera licked at his dry lips, seemingly settling on a response.

"Oh." Gokudera breathed out.

Leaning back on his heels Yamamoto chuckled at the simple reply. "Yeah."

Gokudera's head fell down to his chest, his fingers ruffling through his hair roughly. Yamamoto continued to watch his movements as the smaller male shuffled between surprise and conflict. So Yamamoto decided he could do the talking since there had been something he wanted to ask since he'd seen the detailed sketch of him.

"One thing doesn't make sense to me though."

Gokudera lifted his head a little, suspicion already coloring his gaze. "And what's that?"

Yamamoto looked back down at the drawing of him. It was very, very detailed. He felt his cheeks heat up at the awareness of what Gokudera saw.

"Why would you sketch me? I didn't think you could even stand me, but this says you at least notice me enough to sketch out mostly naked pictures."

By the way his eyebrows shot up it was obvious Gokudera wasn't ready for that. He slid his hand across his face, clearly embarrassed. Yamamoto figured this was the part where Gokudera would finally throw his fist at Yamamoto's face, tell him to get the fuck out and then he'd never see Gokudera again. The other male was terrible at anything resembling talking about feelings and this seemed like a boundary was being crossed here. But Yamamoto was surprised when Gokudera started to answer.

"I've been having some…trouble… lately. The last manga I did was really popular but I just don't have any inspiration for this new one my editors sent me. The story's not well thought out, there's no description of the characters and I'm just so pissed over the whole thing! And then _you-_!" His finger shot in Yamamoto's direction clearly accusing the man of something major. Surprised by the sheer amount of emotion Gokudera had managed to work up, Yamamoto leaned back from Gokudera's reach.

"You show up here being all nice and you-ish! And suddenly I can't focus on this project and I look at you all the damn time and even your stupid lame jokes are starting to make me laugh." Gokudera tsked angrily, throwing his hands up with a frustrated noise. "God, your jokes are fucking terrible by the way."

That was quite unexpected. When he had prompted Gokudera he had guessed some half assed answer but this was something else entirely. Something that meant he wasn't the only one sneaking glances and that he might have a chance at more than just looking. Yamamoto's own mind was starting to work pretty quickly and in a matter of seconds he had a plan. One that he thought Gokudera might actually agree to in light of recent revelations.

Brown eyes glanced down to the shaking man before him. "You said you lack inspiration. Do you maybe want some help with that?"

"With _what_?" Gokudera snapped.

Yamamoto eyed him, his lips lifting carefully. "I'm asking, do you want to have sex for some inspiration on the subject matter?"

The already building tension in the room doubled and Gokudera sagged against the table behind him. He opened his mouth and quickly clamped it shut. How on earth was Yamamoto so fucking _blunt_?

Without prompting the taller male strode towards Gokudera. But not his normal walk around the flat. This walk was full of purpose and promise. Gokudera made the mistake of looking up into Yamamoto's eyes and he faltered again. Those eyes weren't the normal jovial eyes of his housekeeper, they were daring and mischievous. Panic surged through Gokudera and he shot upwards, hands in front of him like a barrier.

"Hey wait! Idiot Yamamoto, hey!" Gokudera took a few steps back before he felt the wall at his back and suddenly he felt like he was in playing a role in one of the mangas he was supposed to be illustrating. He wasn't one of his stupid characters! He was better than that. At least he usually was yet somehow the taller male could knock him off his game with just a couple of questions. He needed space to think. To breathe. But when Yamamoto pressed one hand onto the wall behind him and one warm hand curled at the nape of his neck, Gokudera's eyes snapped forward.

A hot puff of air hit Gokudera's throat and Yamamoto's pressed, "Is that okay Gokudera?"

Instead of a real reply Gokudera felt his legs lock up. This was going so fast. Yamamoto was really there, his hand was really running through the strands of hair at his neck. It was just like what he had been day dreaming about for the past week. Yamamoto's hands were much warmer in reality and he had never noticed the defined muscles of his shoulders until he was eye level with them. He swallowed thickly, sorting through all the new information.

Okay so Yamamoto was really there and waiting on Gokudera to say something. He knew if he told Yamamoto to back the fuck off he would instantly and that would be the end of whatever this thing was. Yamamoto wasn't going to force Gokudera into anything and the thought was a relief. The moron might not know the full effect of his words but he would never hurt Gokudera. Really he had control right now and the thought loosened up the knot in his chest just enough to swallow.

And as much as hated it, he had to admit that he wanted Yamamoto. He had craved for the very thing Yamamoto offered. Had wanted the idiot for a ridiculous amount of time. Between their meals together, watching late night television on the couch and simple easiness of being around each other Gokudera knew he wanted this. He craved the open smiles, the rumble of Yamamoto's laughter, the reassuring warmth of his touch and all the embarrassing sweet things that came with intimacy. He hadn't even thought of cheerful, bright, warm Yamamoto wanting it with him. The dose of honestly sent adrenaline surging through him and he swallowed.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, knowing he was about to do the most stupid (or best?) thing in his life he breathed out.

"Go for it." Yamamoto's laughter hit his collarbone and Gokudera opened his mouth to protest before the tan male kissed his chin. "You're such a romantic, Gokudera."

And then Yamamoto kissed him on the lips. Gokudera absolutely refused to make waxing poetry about the feeling of Yamamoto's lips, instead he diverted his attention on following the movements, the push and pull of his counterpart's motions. His lips were strong and confident and he could feel a smile at the corners. Gokudera wrinkled his nose at how good it felt.

Stupidly large hands slid to his hips as Yamamoto moved into Gokudera's personal bubble, the smaller male's hands too busy moving up Yamamoto's shirt to even notice the proximity.

The two stayed locked like that, Yamamoto enjoying his victory in getting to finally touch Gokudera who was enthusiastically kissing him back. Coaxing him into a deeper kiss Yamamoto didn't miss the brief pause of Gokudera's hands and tongue. Despite being a guy who drew about this kind of stuff, the smoker seemed quite unsure what to do himself. Not that Yamamoto had really done this with a guy before but that was a minor detail right now anyways. So he and Gokudera might as well learn what to do together, right?

Pushing their bodies closer so there wasn't room for either pair of hands, Yamamoto reached for Gokudera's ass, the other hand tugging back his head a bit so he could kiss down his neck. Gokudera felt his body tense at the stimulation and busied himself with tightly gripping onto Yamamoto's shoulders. He could very clearly feel the muscles of Yamamoto's body moving against him, feel the heat around him and he squeezed his eyes shut, tracing where Yamamoto's lips were just by touch. Yamamoto bit sharply against the junction of pale neck and shoulder, pulling a warm whine from his mouth until Yamamoto abruptly stopped to peek up at him. He was grinning so boyishly wide that his eyes crinkled, completely contradicting the things he'd been doing moments before. "Did you just-?"

Gokudera cut him off quickly with a 'shut up' and nipped at his already red lips.

The ensuring groan was something he decided he liked very much and was intent to replicate later. He also vowed to not moan loud enough for his neighbors to hear. He was pretty sure he would never be able to handle that much embarrassment.

Yamamoto kept them there, content to just hold Gokudera. He made sure he knew the map of Gokudera's mouth, the feel of his warmth. Gokudera was still taut under his touch but now he was wholeheartedly kissing back. And when his hands moved up to grip the back of Yamamoto's shirt, he couldn't help but smile.

With a pop Gokudera pulled away from the kiss, frowning. "What the hell are you smiling about?"

He didn't answer instead pulling the mangaka back to his lips.

The thought of next steps crossed his mind and not entirely comfortable with the idea of being fucked against the wall, Gokudera managed to pull back enough to impatiently grit out, "Not here." Taking the hint, Yamamoto moved them to the couch and he fell backwards, pulling the smaller male on top of him. Gokudera squirmed at the new position, noticing how exposed his back suddenly felt. Warm hands left his jaw, sliding around the smaller male's sides and pulled so that their lower bodies connected fully. Yamamoto felt his body burning, the reality setting that he was about to have sex (make love? Do the do?) with Gokudera. Wild, bad tempered, ridiculously hot Gokudera. He couldn't help how hard the thought made him.

"The fuck?" Gokudera exclaimed at the contact, wigging at the lump in Yamamoto's pants. He glared down at the house keeper. "You're already this hard?"

Yamamoto shrugged off the comment and rolled his hips up into Gokudera who gasped at the forceful movement.

"You don't give yourself enough credit for how attractive you are. Besides-" He gave a quick nip to Gokudera's open lips. "I've thought about this for a while."

Gokudera refused to think about the way his stomach flipped at the the thought and instead pushed a hand against the larger male's face, growling "Just shut up."

Having Yamamoto here with him, touching him was almost too much. There was this passionate and heated side of him that just didn't match with the laughing idiot he knew, but he found he liked it too. And he certainly wanted to know more about this side of him. If he was honest with himself (and he rarely ever was) he knew that he wanted to find all the different sides of Yamamoto Takeshi. What surprises did he have? Surprised by the sudden sentimentality Gokudera tried to push away the affection for the man already knowing that was probably a lost cause.

Done with thinking and much more interested in doing, the smoker leaned down and pushed his tongue forcibly into Yamamoto's mouth. Yamamoto's hands tightened around Gokudera's hips. He ran his fingers against the edge of his shirt, pushing the fabric further and further up the pale body against him until he reached Gokudera's arms. The two broke apart long enough for Gokudera to sit up and pull the material up over his head and toss it away. He waited for a moment, staring at the man beneath him before he slid back into Yamamoto's hold.

Yamamoto's hands slipped to his chest, rubbing the nipples there, his mouth never leaving contact with Gokudera's skin, he managed to pull a moan from his throat. A warm tongue licked at his neck before Yamamoto bit down harshly. Gokudera wanted to protest that he wasn't into biting but was cut off when Yamamoto began to suck at the abused skin. He decided he would tell him later.

Realizing he was being rather passive about the entire thing, Gokudera boldly ran his hands down the tan stomach underneath him, smirking when the skin twitched wherever his fingers traced.

Yamamoto broke away and gave a bashful smile, "Your hands are cold Gokudera."

Rolling his eyes, Gokudera's fingers grappled with the button of Yamamoto's pants. He struggled for a bit, distracted by the warm breath at his ear, the lips on his neck and the hands still playing with his chest. A particularly rough pull on his nipple broke his concentration, Gokudera let out a long hiss and bucked against his partner's hips. "Shit."

There was a small laugh beneath him and Gokudera shuddered when another couple of bites were applied to his shoulder, "Yeah." Yamamoto added in agreement before his own hands effectively undid the button and zipper for Gokudera.

Pulling the clothing far enough down for his next task Gokudera roughly kissed Yamamoto as his hand made contact with his cock for the first time. 

Truth be told it had been years since his last sexual encounter of any kind and he definitely didn't expect it to be with the idiot who cleaned his house. It was one thing to draw it out with characters who weren't real doing this kind of stuff but it was so much more when you were doing it with a living, breathing, hard body of the guy you had been interested in for the last week.

Yamamoto noticed the pause and sat up enough to catch Gokudera's gaze. Gokudera was momentarily distracted by the way his abs flexed at the movement."Hey, you alright? We don't have to do this you know?" There was a small almost resigned smile on his lips and the look solidified Gokudera's resolve.

Cutting him off before Yamamoto could talk them out of this, the smaller male growled at him, hiding his nervous embarrassment at being caught by kissing him fully. They kissed for several long seconds and the nervousness melted out of both of their bodies. Yamamoto laughed until Gokudera took him back into his hands, causing the dark hair male to choke.

Gokudera smiled tauntingly at him, pretty pleased with himself before Yamamoto stuttered uneasily, "Your hands are still really cold."

The silver haired male rolled his eyes and leaned forward, "You better fucking warm them up then." before he returned to grabbing Yamamoto's length. That seemed to shut him up, Yamamoto went still as Gokudera rubbed lightly along the skin there. Everything was hot and he felt the sheer weight of Yamamoto in his hand. He was bigger in real life than in Gokudera's imagination and the logistics of making it fit inside of him popped unwilling into his brain. The smoker pushed down the flutter of nervousness, reminding himself he was completely in control of their pace.

He honestly didn't know what the housekeeper liked so he tried everything he knew he personally liked. It couldn't be that different. He alternated between hard quick tugs and slow deliberate movement with an easy jerk of his wrist, trying to get a sense of what the other male wanted done. Unfortunately beneath him, Yamamoto had his eyes screwed shut, his mouth hanging open and panting. Not really much to go on.

Not that this was a bad sight, Gokudera mused, but still the guy was usually an overly expressive idiot and now Gokudera couldn't tell what he wanted. That was frustrating and he needed some directions here. His frown drooped and he gave an unnecessarily hard tug. Yamamoto growled at the pressure, eyes slowly opening to reveal confused brown eyes. A questioning groan left his lips and Gokudera ignored the warmth that sank into his stomach, shooting an accusing glare at him.

"You look like you're in pain."

Yamamoto shook his head slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Not even close. You're doing really well Gokudera!"

Gokudera rolled his eyes, "Don't make it sound like a fucking lesson, asshole."

"Well, it kinda is one Gokudera! I've never done this with a guy before."

The honesty in his voice caught Gokudera off guard because he spluttered. "Really? You idiot! Why would-. I mean why would you want-? Ah" His face flushed scarlet and Yamamoto thought the sight might be burned into his brain forever. Mostly understanding the silverette he simply replied, "Because I like you."

Gokudera furrowed his brow. What the hell? "You're ridiculous."

Yamamoto pulled Gokudera forward onto his chest, laughing happily. The two stared at one another, completely still for a heartbeat. Breaking eye contact first, Gokudera muttered embarrassedly and moved himself down Yamamoto's body, a new plan already in mind. Taking Yamamoto's seemingly fondness of bites, he left a trail of nips and licks against random stretches of skin until he was poised over Yamamoto's hips, his hands supporting himself on thick tan thighs. Gokudera's hand shook slightly and Yamamoto wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead he leaned forward and kissed the top of the smaller male's head.

The action broke whatever mental pep talk he had going on because he growled at the Japanese male before mouthing the tip of Yamamoto's dick. There was a quiet hiss above him and Gokudera took that as a good sign before he pulled more of his dick into his mouth and sucked. It wasn't entirely unpleasant he thought distractedly, leaning further down on his elbow to take in more, jaw adjusting for a better fit. He tried breathing through his nose, not sure how else to really do this. Looking for some inclination he watched Yamamoto's expression and he decided that if the idiot was going to make that face then it might even be enjoyable. The thought that Yamamoto was enjoying this made him flush a bit and continue on with new motivation. 

He continued to suck his partner off, stretching his lips until they hurt, bits of spit slipping down the side. There was a slight burn to his jaw but the encouraging sounds above him kept him there. Trying different things he'd only thought about before he hollowed he cheeks and moaned lowly. He almost laughed when Yamamoto cursed above him, hands knotted in the fabric of the couch. He cracked an amber eye and tried to speak, "But what about you 'Dera?" A warm hand rubbed the side of his full cheeks, giving the silverette pause. The touch was soft and affectionate and Yamamoto was crossing territory now. This wasn't supposed to be a ridiculously tender sappy make love thing. He wouldn't allow Yamamoto to get warm and fuzzy here. To prove his point he scraped his teeth over the cock glaring at the male. Yamamoto hissed through his teeth but his had stayed still.

With tremendous effort Gokudera pulled off Yamamoto's cock, heat coloring his face. "Am I doing that badly you want me to stop?" Yamamoto groaned above him causing Gokudera to eye him wearily.

Warm brown eyes watched him with a tenderness that gripped right at the smoker's chest. "This isn't a one-sided thing Dera. I want to make you feel good too." His lips twisted coyly. "Really good."

Gokudera flushed and worried his lip with sharp teeth. 

"Still trying to 'inspire' my art?" He asked sarcastically. 

He was met with a laugh and another kiss. "More along the lines of you've inspired me." 

A bark of laughter left the smaller male's lips at how cheesy that was and he took a second to steady his breathing. "I'll make sure my editor gets a transcript with that in it." 

Yamamoto smiled widely at the quip before moving one arm to support the whole of Gokudera's back and his hips to tilt the both of them so Yamamoto was straddling Gokudera's hips. He left another kiss at Gokudera's forehead, lips, collarbone, stomach and hips before pushing down the well worn sweatpants. Gokudera focused his energy on not fidgeting when Yamamoto kissed at the inside of his legs. He urged Yamamoto off of him and smirked at the slightly confused look. 

Rolling his eyes he shifted up and onto the arm of the couch, his legs spreading invitingly. Understanding thankfully crossed Yamamoto's face and he scrambled atop Gokudera who was starting to feel empowered by his own actions. Yamamoto reached a tentative hand to Gokudera's pale stomach, running warm fingers lightly down his navel, hip bone and his cock.

Gokudera stopped the other's progression, placing his hand atop Yamamoto's and reached up to his lips, prodding the flesh there and watching Yamamoto's face carefully. "Would you hold on for a fucking second?"

His tongue flicked at Gokudera's fingers, soon taking the digits in a warm wet heat. He shuddered at the sensation, watching as the tan male carefully licked at his fingers, occasionally nipping at the skin there to get a response from his partner. Pulling his fingers away from that wonderful mouth, Gokudera braced himself for the next step. "I'm getting to that part."

His hand purposefully slid down to his body, ending at his entrance and grinning as Yamamoto's eyes followed carefully.

He infused all the confidence he had left before slipping a finger inside himself. The feeling wasn't foreign to him (after being single for so long he had gotten very comfortable getting himself off this way) but the added pressure of the pair of eyes watching him certainly was new. Gokudera leaned onto the arm of the couch, purposely putting on a show for his housekeeper, the same man who was watching every movement with utter fascination and arousal. Seeing Yamamoto's pupils blown wide gave him confidence and he couldn't help the moan from leaving his throat. The very noticeable want on Gokudera's face, the flush of his skin, the subtle twitches of his muscles as he adjusted his body to take in more of his own fingers had Yamamoto swallowing thickly. Unconsciously his hand moved to his own dick and he stroked with Gokudera's movements.

Soon he had worked up to three fingers in and his thighs began to shake with the amount of effort used to keep his legs this far apart, the smoker began to lose the pleasure that had been building. Instead he felt tired and strained the idea no longer as sexy as he originally envisioned. He pulled out his fingers, frustrated, and arched against the arm rest, annoyed. Great. He had forgotten Yamamoto was even there until an incredibly husky voice pulled him back to the reality.

"Gokudera, that was really incredible. Are you okay? I mean do you still want me-?" He trailed off and swallowed at the sentence.

The inevitable flush rose up again and Gokudera jerked his head once before Yamamoto was leaning over him on the arm rest, teeth scraping his ear, hands gripping his hips and hard cock pressed against his opening. There was a brief pause in which they both watched one another, lips pushing almost sweetly, both full of affection.

With a nip to smoke flavored lips, Yamamoto pushed in. Only half way, he noted with a sigh. Gokudera's hands had moved up to his shoulder and he groaned at the fullness. He was tight and warm and twitching at the intrusion and Yamamoto thought he could come right then as he watched Gokudera's satisfied face. Kisses were placed to his throat as Yamamoto tried to sense when his partner would be ready for him to move. He didn't know precisely what that sign would be, but he assumed that Gokudera wouldn't be so tight. He felt Gokudera ground his hips further down, pulling more than what could possibly be comfortable in and he sucked in a shaking breath. 

Trying to not focus on the building need to move, he watched Gokudera's pale throat as he swallowed, telling himself to relax and just breathe. Guiltily thinking that this was not the ground breaking moment he'd imagined because how could it be when Gokudera looked like he was having difficulty just breathing, his chest flushed with effort and the puffs of air he huffed out. He opened his mouth to speak, "Gokudera look, I didn't know this would hurt so much-"

Green eyes flashed at him before the smoker punched him in the shoulder, scowl etched into his lips. "Stop apologizing you fucking moron." He rolled his shoulder to shake off the already easing tension and stared him down. "It's been…a while, since I've done this. Shit it's been years. But that doesn't mean you hurt me. So, stop acting like you're sorry you did this and move." Gokudera wiggled his hips to demonstrate his point.

And he did, swooping down and pressing his lips harshly to chapped ones and pushing in all the way in. Gokudera gasped into the kiss but Yamamoto kept their lips pressed together and rolled his hips up into the smaller body before him. "Still okay?" he checked one more time. Gokudera smirked haughtily. "Never better."

Not one to waste time with a 'slow-build' like all those sappy novels said, Yamamoto instead snapped their hips together, each time letting out low moans that mimicked Gokudera's own.

As the two progressively felt the pressure coiling, curling, tightly winding through their over heated bodies they thought of nothing but each other, just the two of them, pressed together fully, teeth clashing and biting lips, bodies hot and flushed with sweat. How there was no room to breathe in anything other than each other. How the slick of each other made their stomachs burn and toes curl. The heat coursed through them quickly, an electrifying burn that left them panting harshly and with a few more thrust Gokudera let out a particularly colored curse and griped the short strands of black hair in his reach. "Do that again."

Not sure exactly what he had done, Yamamoto laughed, excited by the rough whisper and slammed harder into Gokudera, rocking his body up off the arm rest. Neither of them expected the intensity of the movement and after a few more thrusts Gokudera bit at the skin on Yamamoto's collarbone before climaxing loudly, shouting Yamamoto's name. Yamamoto would have come just from the sound but the spasms of Gokudera's orgasm pulled him to his own. He came inside of Gokudera, nose pressed against the sweaty silver hair, panting out the silverette's name.

The room felt too hot and Gokudera could feel the fabric of the couch leaving deep impressions into his shoulders and back, his body already sore from the position. That had to be the worst idea he'd ever had for a romp. But a warm kiss to his chin and the proud gaze directed at him broke him from his complaining. He looked away awkwardly, not sure what he could even say about what had just happened.

Sensing his confusion, Yamamoto simply tugged Gokudera's arms and they both landed on the couch, this time Gokudera laying atop a breathless baseball idiot. Leaning down to press another kiss to the top of Gokudera's head, Yamamoto smiled at the quick comment of him being 'awfully affectionate' and pulled the blanket he'd gotten for the silverette up around both of them.

"Haha, 'm only affectionate with you Gokudera." He murmured, exhaustion and satisfaction making his eyelids droop. Maybe the heat of Gokudera's face was from exertion or maybe embarrassment but he just scoffed and settled his head under Yamamoto's chin. "Whatever."

They fell asleep like that; tired, sore, satisfied and grinning as the sky darkened outside the window and the stars began to appear in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Old work. new edits and site. Only thing to warn is Gokudera has a terrible mouth and chapter two is very much not PG-13


End file.
